The Morning After
by Saramund
Summary: Someone got lucky.... Who was it? Sam/_____ or Janet/______ - you fill in the blanks.


Title: The Morning After  
Author: Saramund  
E-Mail: Saramund@hotmail.com  
Season: Any episode before Meridian  
Spoilers: None  
Rating: G.  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG1 and its characters are property of Stargate (II) productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and absolutely no money was exchanged. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations and story are property of the author. This story may not be posted anywhere else without the consent of the author.  
Authors Note: I have no idea what Janet Fraiser's Rank is... So I've made it Major - just to confuse the issue even further....   
  
Post Script: For those who are a little confused - you're not SUPPOSED to know who's saying what. That's the whole point of this story  
  
  
The commissary was bustling with people. Talking, eating, cleaning, working. To the far side, SG13 was sitting around a table, inhaling their lamb stew and rice, eyes dull with exhaustion. Their leader, Major Dunstan, had put his head down beside his tray of food (just for a moment) and had yet to wake up. The rest of his team were reluctant to wake him, looking on jealously at their somnolent leader.  
  
Several technicians were converged around another table, their conversation loud and argumentative. Several words, including 'possibility' and 'theoretically', could be heard amongst the din. Sergeant Siler was loudly involved in the conversation, often pulling in utensils and people to demonstrate his theory. Currently, the salt shaker was taking the place of General Hammond, and a plate devoid of its' food, was taking the place of the Stargate. Siler was gesticulating wildly from Salt-Hammond to the Plate-Gate and speaking in a loud slow voice. More 'hypothetical' and 'conceivable' words were thrown about, and then another tech stepped forward to put his idea into the forum.  
  
The rest of the SGC personnel ignored them, having heard similar conversations many times before. There were several scattered groups of personnel, most talking quietly, under the racket of the tech's current theoretical argument. The cooks were cleaning up the pots and utensils' used to prepare the midday meal, waiting for the commissary to clear so that they could start the evening meal's preparation. Major Doctor Samantha Carter and Major Doctor Janet Fraiser were sitting close to the door, empty plates showing a completed meal.  
"Coffee?" Carter asked.  
"Thanks." Janet smiled back. Carter got up and went over to the coffee machine, filling two mugs with the thick black goo that constituted coffee in the commissary. Recruits had often gagged and gone pale upon tasting the substance, but most SGC personnel found that after a 36-hour working day, the black goo was the only thing that kept them functioning. It was now considered food group in its own right. A cup of coffee thumped down in front of Janet, as Sam sat down in front of her again.  
"So you really woke up in his bed. With him." They both spooned sugar into their black goo, adding a sugar hit to the caffeine high they were both about to experience.  
"I know! I just woke up, and felt this... arm around my waist! I couldn't believe it! I swear, I just lay there for an hour, afraid to move. Afraid I'd wake up and it would be a dream."  
"How the hell did it happen?" They both sipped their coffee, eyes glinting with suppressed excitement.  
"We'd all gone out, right? You, me, and the rest of SG-1. Well, you guys left, then... suddenly I looked around, and it was just me and him.... And a lot of alcohol. The rest of the night is pretty blurry. But I do remember..."   
"WHAT?!" She almost begged.  
"His shower. I remember his shower." She stared of, dreamily.  
"Details! C'mon, girl, give me details."  
"Well, he was really worried when he woke up. I mean, this has changed our whole working relationship."  
"I know, honey. But it's for the best, right?"   
"That's what we eventually figured out. The alcohol just allowed us to look beyond that, beyond our inhibitions, our doubts. We had a long talk before we came to work this morning, over breakfast. Did you know he cooks? I mean, really cooks."  
"And?" She whisper-yelled.  
"And what? Oh, sorry. We decided we want to see if it can work." A goofy grin crossed both of their faces. "We both want it to work. We just have to be ..... circumspect while we're on base."  
"No you don't."  
"What do you mean?"  
"It's been a bet with most of the SG teams that you two would 'hook-up'. Hell, I had a twenty on you two hooking up last Christmas." While one Major looked horrified and dismayed, the other looked evilly gleeful.  
"There are bets.... On us? Does General Hammond know?"  
"Oh yes." Evil glee turned to wicked chuckle. "He had fifty on you two holding out until Thanksgiving."  
"Why Thanksgiv-.... The General BET on us?"  
"He is human. So, where is he?"  
"Who? The General?" A dry, exasperated look was the only response to that question.  
"Sorry, couldn't help myself. He said he had to go finish off some kind of report." Both Major's looked fleetingly guilty, thinking of their own reports, sitting unfinished on respective desks.  
"We should get back to work." Sam suggested reluctantly, draining her coffee.  
"I know." Janet sighed. She stood up and collected both mugs and the dirty plates, handing them to the waiting cooks' helper to put in the industrial dish-washer. They both headed out the commissary door. Sam glanced back briefly at SG13, who was still trying to assess their chances of waking up their CO. From the snores soaring over the top of the technical 'discussion' Siler was still conducting, they didn't have a hope. She grinned and let the door swing shut as she followed her friend down the corridor.  
  
  
-fin- 


End file.
